Song of the South
by Fati Sasspants
Summary: Spock and McCoy are stranded out in space on life support after a failed rescue mission, and must come to terms with the possibility that they might not make it back. /Character death-s-.


Someone is calling him. The voice is small; it is almost lost among the song of the south. Crickets and cicadas surround him. He can faintly make out the flutter of birds wings overhead, huddled in their nests high above the ground.

_'Doctor McCoy.'_

Something tells him this isn't right. He wants desperately to stay, but can already feel the memory bein to fade. "Doctor."  
McCoy grunts softly, stirring. He opens his eyes to darkness.

"Doctor McCoy. Can you hear me?"

"Spock," he says quietly, calmly. His eyes take a moment to adjust. Spock is there, bent over him, looking grim, as always. "Yes. I can hear you just fine." He tries to sit up, but a hand pushes him back.

"Remain still," Spock tells him.

"Why? What happened? Where are we? More importantly, where's Jim?"

"Doctor, you are bleeding."

McCoy realizes for the first time that the side of his neck is wet and sticky with blood. The coppery smell is strong in his nostrils. He shuts his eyes, resisting the urge to retch. It's then that he feels an intense, stabbing pain in his shoulder, ripping through him like a jagged hook. "God," he breathes.

"Please remain still."

McCoy swallows thickly and opens his eyes again. Spock injects him with a hypospray that heps stave off the pain radiating in his shoulder. His head throbs violently. He wets his lips, blue eyes narrowing. "How's about you answer my question now?"

"We are on a shuttle craft. Captain Kirk was taken hostage."

"And Ensigns—"

"They were also taken."

"Figures," McCoy says under his breath. His neck feels warm again, and he wonders just how much he's lost. "We must've taken quite a beating."

"Indeed we did. We are currently on life support."

"Mm." Not surprising. "And, ah, how long until that fails?"

"I would estimate approximately eight hours."

"Fantastic. Here we are, dead in the water, and Jim's being held hostage somewhere, probably making friends with some exotic alien princess. Hmph." Spock finishes up with the wound and begins moving his feet without warning. "Hey, just what the heck do you think you're doing?"

"When the console behind you exploded; you hit your head. You have also sustained a rather large burn on your shoulder and arm. I am attempting to keep you from going into shock."

"Shock," McCoy mumbles in disbelief. He shoots up angrily, trying to sit. His pulse races. "I'm not going into shock."

"Be that as it may, you are clearly incapable of—"

"—I'll show you who's incapable!" he growls struggling to his feet . He is in such agonizing pain he scarcely makes it to his knees before collapsing. Everything is spinning, and then, it's black.

* * *

The next time he opens his eyes, he is resting comfortably, feet propped up as best Spock could manage. Despite his claims of burning alive and then moments later freezing to death, Spock makes sure a blanket is on him at all times. The fog has been lifting, little by little. The cicada are far gone now, replaced by the sounds of circuits exploding; he now realises the danger they are in.

"Doctor. How are you feeling?"

McCoy ignores the question. If Spock must know, he's still in pretty significant pain. He tries to sit up, but his arms are useless and numb. "What's happened?"

"You've been resting. I believe you were attempting to show me something."

"Still stuck in space, huh."

"It would appear so."

"You know, Spock. I hate space."

"Doctor?" Spock says, concerned.

"It's true. I hate the whole damn galaxy. I thought becoming a doctor aboard a star ship would help me get over that. Guess it didn't work, huh?"

"It appears that it did not," Spock answers quietly.

* * *

It feels like they've been floating in a tin can for years. Spock is content to meditate, but McCoy can't shut his mind off. He wonders where Jim is, if he's all right, if he and the two crewmembers are even still alive. He wonders if he and Spock will survive, if the Enterprise will swoop in and save them at the last moment, or if they'll drift along in space, alone, until they both perish. He would die first, naturally, he thinks with a had always told him he was a pessimist. It was rare for them to ever truly argue, but it did happen from time to time. When he looks back on those conversations, he can't help but feel chilled to the bone.

_'It'll save my hide one of these days. Realistically, not everyone always comes back.'_

_'With an attitude like that, it's a wonder you've made it back as many times as you have.'_

_'Yeah? Well you're the one always getting us into these situations to begin with. It's a wonder you've made it back as many times as you have.'_

_'I'll make you a deal, Bones. You promise not to die, and I'll promise, too.'"_

So much for that promise, Jimboy," he murmurs to himself. Spock lifts his head curiously. "I said, how much time is left?" His tongue feels like sandpaper."We have approximately two and a half hours of life support left."

"And still no sign of the _Enterprise_?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Of course not," McCoy says mockingly. "Well, this has been real fun, Spock. We'll have to do it again sometime. Provided we live, of course."

"I will never understand," Spock said softly, "human coping mechanisms."

"There's not much to understand, Spock. We fear the unknown. These days, very little is unknown to us. Death is the biggest mystery there is."

"If you would like, Doctor, I could sedate you, when it is time."

McCoy does not answer.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing…You're a doctor, not a spaceman. Should have stayed on Earth, where you belong."

"Doctor? If I may inquire, what are you talking about?"

"Never you mind, Spock."

"Do you hold conversations with yourself often?"

"Only when I'm scared, Spock. Only when I'm scared."

* * *

"Spock, you still alive?"

"Yes, Doctor, I am."

McCoy smirks. "Just checking."

Time is dwindling to an end. There has been no sign of the Enterprise, no sign of Kirk. They haven't even come across a habitable planet. McCoy's is fading fast. Spock remains sitting, poised and meditating. The lack of oxygen doesn't appear to be affecting him yet. But it will, eventually. Even Vulcans need to breathe.

"You think there's any chance of the _Enterprise_ showing up?"

"Is that really something you wish for me to answer?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"It is highly improbable at this point in time," Spock admits. "Although not impossible."McCoy thinks that perhaps he will awake some hours from now, with Nurse Chapel smiling down at him and Kirk and Spock standing off to the side. Crazier things have happened.

He wets his lips; he is covered in sweat and teetering on the verge of unconsciousness."Spock, are you afraid?"

"I am…regretful."

"What do you regret?"

"There are many things I regret, none of which I can change at the present time… If it is all right with you, Doctor, I would prefer to meditate now."

* * *

He's so exhausted, and oddly enough, he seems to have made peace with this. Spock is beginning to show signs of oxygen deprivation, and it won't be long before he too begins to fade. McCoy only wishes he could last long enough to keep him company. "Look, Spock," he says sleepily, feeling a haze move over him. "You get us back on board the _Enterprise_ in one piece, and I'll never insult Vulcan culture again. Deal?"

"If only that were possible, Doctor," Spock replies gently.

It's ridiculous, but McCoy swears the Vulcan is smiling.

He listens to the sounds of the ship drift until he feels himself go.


End file.
